


Dinner and a Show

by Jaune_Chat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Forced Orgasm, HYDRA Trash Party, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rimming, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaune_Chat/pseuds/Jaune_Chat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is captured by HYDRA, and they have ways of breaking him he could never dream of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner and a Show

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [a prompt at the HYDRA Trash Party](http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/587.html?thread=76875#cmt76875). 
> 
> Takes place vaguely mid-movie, before Steve knew the Winter Soldier was Bucky.

“You have a choice.”

Except Steve knew that he didn't. HYDRA didn't offer people choices, they issued ultimatums, with the consequences being as dire as possible for those who didn't acquiesce. Bruised and battered by Nick Fury's killer and captured by the men he'd been leading for months, Steve's “choices” were down to a thin rind.

“You either come with us quietly, or 'collateral damage' happens.”

No real choice. Just like Steve expected. 

But this time he didn't have the Howling Commandos and Bucky ready to zip-line through a window to save him from presenting himself as a target.

It didn't make the choice any less easy to make. Steve let his shoulders slump, and then the world went gray as a syringe plunged into his neck.

–

He came to in near-darkness, aching and cold, stiff and cramped. He tried to turn over, to push himself up, only to find his limbs held fast. He started, coming all the way awake, and blinked as a bright light came on directly overhead. He could see what looked like a broad, padded cuff on each forearm, stapled into a metal floor, his arms parallel and stretched out in front of him. A second cuff was closer to his elbow, and from the feel of things, more cuffs tethered him at the ankles and just below the knees. He was in an awkward kneeling position, thighs spread wide, with something wound around his waist, chest, and upper thighs that kept him from getting any additional movement or leverage. The shackles were formidable, but Steve tested them anyway, over and over, until spots danced in front of his eyes.

Only when he relaxed from his latest attempt did he hear a door open. He couldn't turn his head much, but he could hear dress shoes walking across the floor in a businesslike stride. Steve had a slowly sinking feel in his stomach when the feet moved closer, a rising sense of nausea starting in his core. The spotlight overhead had the effect of throwing everything outside of it into deep darkness, making it almost impossible to make out details. But Steve could hear the scrape of a chair being set into place, and just see the tips of expensive leather shoes as the owner sat on the other side of the line of light.

The man hadn't said a word yet, but Steve recognized that gait, those shoes. _Pierce._

No. 

“Having fun?” Steve said, in the same casual tone that had always driven bullies berserk back in Brooklyn.

“Very soon, Captain.” Pierce's voice was low and amused, seemingly unaffected by Steve's lack of fear.

Another door opened, this one directly behind Steve, and he blushed just a little at the sight he must present, chest down and ass in the air, legs spread. Then blood drained from his face as the new person walked in, the sound of heavy combat boots and a military stride marking him as one of HYDRA's soldiers. There was one reason and one reason only the sick bastards of HYDRA would have put Steve in a position like this instead of putting two bullets in his brain and shoving him in a shallow grave. They wanted to see him grovel, beg, brought low, as payback for everything he'd done, everything he stood for.

Steve took a long, steadying breath. His body could take it. Whatever pain, whatever humiliation, he could take it. They could do whatever they wanted to him right now, but they wouldn't keep their guard up forever, and the second they got careless, Steve would move. He'd get free on his own, if Natasha and Sam weren't already on their way here, and between the three of them, they could-.

“Prepare him,” Pierce said, his voice floating out of the darkness. “Thoroughly. I want him to be very ready when you take him.”

“Really considerate. Did you have to look through a lot of websites to find the right bondage poses for your scrapbook?” Steve said, laying on the sarcasm as thick as he could. There was a soft huffing sound, like Pierce had been surprised, probably by Steve referencing something to be found online. 

Steve could hear the man behind him kneel, and then a few soft clicks, not immediately recognizable. He tensed, readying himself for pain, for Pierce to tell his confederate to force him.

“Throw that where he can see it.”

There was a brief pause after Pierce's command, and then something hit the ground a few inches from Steve's face. He turned to look at it, and saw a blank, form-fitting black mask, the same one that had covered the face of the metal-armed killer who'd slaughtered Nick Fury and gotten away. Horror shot through his gut, making him tighten up.

One flesh hand and one metal one pressed into his ass, kneading the muscle there like the man was testing it for tenderness. Steve felt sick, but wouldn't let that stop him.

“You done groping me? Need foreplay to get it up?” he said, almost spitting out his words.

And suddenly something warm and wet pressed against his exposed asshole. And moved, swiping over the sensitive flesh in long strokes. Steve was so surprised he couldn't talk for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. It was only when he felt the soft brush of long hair touch the cheeks of his ass did he realize that the assassin was licking him.

The tongue lapped thoroughly over Steve's flesh, stroking, circling, pressing against the tight pucker of his hole and then dipping down to run briefly over his perineum and balls before coming back up again. The sensation was completely new, fear and anger mingling with shock and the physical stimulation making his body try to find any logical outlet for his confusion. Steve felt himself getting hard, cock filling out with every swipe of the assassin's tongue until he was achingly erect. He felt himself flush red, but just gritted his teeth as his body got interested. After the serum, a light breeze could have set him off, and it had taken him weeks to get used to the increased sensitivity. He couldn't stop it from affecting him now, but he didn't have to let Pierce gloat over it, the bastard.

He heard Pierce shift, one leg crossing over the other, then down again, and turned towards him to say, “This how you get your rocks off, Pierce?”

Pierce went still, and Steve felt a tiny bit of triumph at having scored a point. He'd pay for it later, but for now the little victory felt good. 

What wasn't good was the way Pierce nodded at his tormentor, who suddenly left off the slow pace he had been using to begin to lick in overdrive, his tongue darting to press more firmly against Steve's hole. He wriggled the tip of his tongue, and Steve closed his eyes as they went unfocused at how crazy-good that felt. His body was opening up for the violation, and Steve's humiliated flush returned in full force. He'd had no idea something like that could feel pleasurable, and felt his jaw ache as he desperately tried to fight it. He had figured on them trying to hurt him, but this was even worse, his balls aching with a need to come, a need that increased with every skilled swipe of that tongue. 

“This how you get ahead in HYDRA, by getting behind? Gives brown-noser a literal meaning,” Steve managed to grate out, hoping to shake the assassin enough to give him pain instead of more unwanted pleasure. The tongue pressed deeper inside, thrusting and retreating, and Steve had to catch himself from trying to move the few inches left to him to chase the sensation. It didn't stop the assassin from going deeper, faster, giving Steve what he most desperately didn't want.

“The Fist of HYDRA does whatever is required to secure the new world order,” Pierce said serenely. “Including breaking Captain America to saddle.”

Steve glared at where Pierce's face was hidden in the shadows. “You're going to need a better horse.”

“Oh no, Captain. I think I brought just the right stallion for the job.”

Steve shut his mouth to stop a moan as the tongue thrust in deep and stayed there, delicately flicking at Steve's rim. He wanted more, he needed to come to clear his head, he needed this to _stop_ , he needed to get free, to stop HYDRA's assassin, to capture Pierce, he needed to get away, he had to...

“Mount up,” Pierce commanded, and the tormenting tongue left. Steve barely had time to catch his breath before he felt the metal hand grab his hip and a thick, blunt pressure at his hole. He felt almost floating, disconnected, at the point in a dream where everything turned so, so wrong.

“Don't,” Steve said, struggling to turn his head enough to see his rapist, but it was impossible. “Don't do this.” He kept his voice as calm and reasonable and firm as he could, the voice of command he'd used for years, even as his cock throbbed and his hole fluttered around the thickness of the head of the man's dick.

“Lights,” Pierce said.

Steve's head went up as a light went on about ten feet in front of him, illuminating a mirror and letting him see the scene Pierce had been enjoying: himself nailed to the floor, spread and helpless, his face flushed and eyes dilated, and the assassin behind him in his leather tac gear that still exposed that murderous left arm, his long hair in his face as he remained poised to ram himself into Steve's ass. What the hell had HYDRA done to the man to give them that much control over him? 

“Look up, and stroke him as you enter. Slowly,” Pierce said, and Steve could faintly see the outline of Pierce leaning forward in anticipation. 

_No!_ Steve wouldn't say it out loud, but he was screaming inside his own head, heart racing. 

The assassin shook his hair out of face, and Steve's world froze, his middle hollowed out, and his heart stopped beating. Bucky was looking at him in the mirror, his best friend's face on an assassin's body, staring down at Steve like he was a puzzle to solve, the crease of concentration on his forehead familiar as the back of Steve's own hand.

“Bucky?” he gasped out.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the man said, looking up in confused annoyance before returning to the task at hand.

Then the metal hand closed around Steve's primed and ready cock as Bucky's slicked erection eased into his ass, the pressure intense but not too painful. The stimulation was too much, and Steve's balls drew up as he orgasmed into Bucky's metal hand, gasping as if he'd just come from another fruitless fight in a back alley. Bucky sank deeper into Steve's body, and Steve looked up to see his face going momentarily slack, like Bucky did when he slept. It was just like he remembered, and sickening horror twisted Steve's gut, the fear making him tighten against Bucky's slowly-increasing pace of thrusts. This wasn't just someone who looked like Bucky, brought in to mess with his head, _it was him._ No lookalike could have known about those little expressions, those moments built of long-time friendship.

His best friend had been plucked from death only to be remade into a half-machine who would degrade himself on command and kill wherever he was pointed.

“Bucky, no!” Steve shouted, his voice coming out cracked as Bucky's hips snapped forward, hitting something that made Steve's very confused libido ramp up his arousal again. In moments, Steve was trying to stave off another erection and failing as Bucky's relentless thrusts targeted weak spots Steve hadn't known he had.

“Stay quiet!” Bucky snapped, and began to work his metal hand in concert with his hips. Words died on Steve's tongue as he gasped and came, friction and pressure and fear and a bizarre relief at seeing Bucky alive making his body not obey any commands from his head.

 _No,_ Steve thought, over and over again, as if he could make it better, make it any less horrible, by just trying hard enough. Bucky's cock continued to work in his body, damnably good, and he could hear the quieter sounds of Pierce chuckling off to one side.

“I'll bet on my horse, Captain,” Pierce said, unbearably smug.

“Stop it, damn it, Bucky, stop!” Steve said, struggling as much as he could. That only seemed to excite Bucky further, and with a half-dozen more deep thrusts, emptied himself into Steve's bowels in a splash of liquid heat. There was a pause, and then Bucky slid out of him, leaving Steve cold and empty, a trail of something wet starting to slide down his thigh. His cock had gotten hard again, and Bucky was still holding it like a favored toy, stroking in idle motions enough to keep Steve on a knife-edge of painful arousal.

“Finish him up, soldier,” Pierce said.

Steve gasped quietly as Bucky's mouth lowered to his ass again, his tongue delving in seek every trace of semen, circling around Steve's rim in perfect concert to the strokes he was giving Steve's cock. Bucky didn't show a flicker of hesitation, willingly drinking down his own come out of Steve's ass, and Steve's face burned with humiliation for him. His rim fluttered around Bucky's tongue, out of his control as the warm, wet muscle kept him on edge.

“He might have been a decent stallion, but personally I think of him as a good dog, performing at his master's command,” Pierce said.

“I am going to see you pay for what you've done to him,” Steve managed, trying to keep his voice from catching or breaking as Bucky delved in deep with his tongue and twisted his wrist on the upstroke. Steve was too close to losing it again, and wanted to refuse to give Pierce the satisfaction of watching him. He spat in the direction of those shined leather shoes, and suddenly Bucky's fingers were inside him, rough and dry and pressing down on a spot that had him spurting onto the floor in a violent orgasm that left him limp in his bonds. 

“I have paid. Cost a fortune to get him from the Russians, but worth every penny, as you can feel-” Whatever Pierce was about to add died on his tongue as the sound of gunfire echoed in the hallway outside the room.

Bucky moved quickly, shooting to his feet and pulling Pierce to the second door, the one behind Steve, kicking open the door and exiting in less than five seconds. It took another thirty before the gunfire died down, and Steve had his heart in his throat as he waited.

After a long time, the first door opened, and light from the hallway illuminated Natasha's outline as she took in the sight of Steve shackled to the floor, his body sheened with sweat and stinking of come, his ass glistening with spit.

Just out of reach lay the mask of the Winter Soldier.

Natasha shut the door behind her and went to Steve's side, a key in her hands she used to get him free. Steve just laid there, unable to move, unwilling to speak, sides heaving, still trying to remember how to breathe.

“We'll find him, Steve,” was all she said, putting her hand on the back of his neck. And then said nothing more as his tears mingled with the sweat and semen staining the floor below him.


End file.
